


You're the lure

by catbythefirelight



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Crime, Drama, Light Angst, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension, smugglers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 15:10:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20311552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catbythefirelight/pseuds/catbythefirelight
Summary: None of this had ever been part of the plan. Yuuri was meant to find the vase and get out. Viktor wasn’t supposed to be there, no one was. But it seemed that this would be a night of unexpected happenings and decisions regardless.Written for Isekai: Another World Zine (Jouhen Edition).





	You're the lure

**Author's Note:**

> Interrupting my months-long hiatus to post my work written last year for the Isekai zine! It was wonderful working with everyone from this team!
> 
> Beta-ed by the lovely SakuraWindChime!

_Oh, God._

A flash of bright silver drew Yuuri’s eye upward. As Yuuri followed it, he caught a glimpse of a man’s lithe body silhouetted against the moonlit windows of the warehouse, just before he slipped back into darkness. Yuuri jerked back from where he was bent over the shelf before him, reaching for his gun.

_Where is the vase? Where?_

_And where is he now?_

Yuuri’s fingers were clammy on the cool metal of his gun. He swallowed, his chest tight, attempting to keep his breaths under control. On high alert he turned around, straining his ears to hear for movement around him.

Someone was here. Another smuggler. He wasn’t supposed to be here. The only one who should’ve been aware of this warehouse – and the vase Yuuri was looking for – was  _Yuuri_ . His client, however, had been twitchy, speaking in a low voice as if he was frightened of being overheard. His tone had been reverent as he spoke of the vase, intimating that it was a widely coveted item. He’d been so sure that the vase was in this warehouse, too.

Perhaps his client was a fool, if he couldn’t have even given Yuuri a better clue as to the location of the vase than this warehouse. Regardless, someone else wanted the vase badly enough that Yuuri was in trouble.

Suddenly a heavy weight buckled his back, lean arms wrapping around his neck. Yuuri shouted as he fell onto the concrete floor, the other smuggler following him. Yuuri caught the impact with his palms, pain ricocheting up his arms. His gun slipped out of his hands, skidding to the floor. The other smuggler’s weight forced him all the way down. Tears sprung into Yuuri’s eyes as his cheek hit the floor. He struggled but the other smuggler was holding him down, his fingers wrapping tightly around Yuuri’s wrists. The man was unnaturally strong. Yuuri could barely move.

His breath was hot against Yuuri’s nape.

Something about that sensation – oddly dreamlike, like déjà vu – made Yuuri break out in a shiver. It niggled at the back of his mind but Yuuri ignored it, throwing his head backwards. The man cried out, his hands loosening around Yuuri’s wrists. Yuuri pulled his hands free and jammed his elbows back, bucking his hips. He’d only crawled a couple of inches away when the man regained his bearings and the too-tight grip on his arms was back, this time pulling Yuuri up. Yuuri let the man turn him over, his eyes darting upward.

His mouth slackened. It was Viktor Nikiforov bent over him, his face twisted into a scowl, teeth bared. His nose was bloody where Yuuri’s head had hit him, hair tousled. Even dishevelled, the sharpness of his features were highlighted where light fell over them both, and he was beautiful.

Viktor’s hands moved from his wrists to his throat. Yuuri couldn’t breathe, eyes watering from the pressure. His hands were free – instinctively trying to pull Viktor’s hands from his throat, but it was futile. No matter how hard Yuuri dug his nails into Viktor’s skin and tore at him, Viktor’s grip never even faltered. Well, Viktor was the most dangerous smuggler in the world for a reason; not to mention one of the most wanted criminals in the country.

Yuuri choked, losing breath.

“Yuuri!” Viktor snarled. Dimly, Yuuri wondered how Viktor knew his name. “Who do you work for?”

Viktor loosened his grip on Yuuri’s throat enough for him to speak.

Yuuri coughed and wheezed, gulping in air frantically. He drew saliva onto his tongue. “That’s none of your fucking business.” He aimed, and spat.

Viktor jerked his head back as Yuuri’s aim hit true. Yuuri pressed his advantage, knocking Viktor’s hands away from his throat and thrusting his elbows hard into Viktor’s chest as he pulled himself to sit up. Viktor fell back. Yuuri snatched his gun off the floor, leaning over Viktor and pressing his gun to Viktor’s heart.

Viktor froze, blue eyes darting up to Yuuri’s face.

“You’re Viktor Nikiforov,” Yuuri murmured. Viktor’s name felt good on his tongue. Yuuri’s lips quirked up at the corners. “You work for Yakov Feltsman. Tell me what you did with the vase.”

Viktor was silent.

Yuuri pushed the muzzle of his gun harder against Viktor’s chest, digging into skin, until he saw Viktor’s features tighten in an attempt to hide his pain. He watched the minute changes in Viktor’s expression with fascination. Yuuri’s eyes lingered on the firm jut of Viktor’s jawline; his carefully controlled blinking; the tautness of his lips. “You’re in no position to keep secrets, Viktor.”

“You tell me who you work for, and I’ll tell you where it is.”

Yuuri raised his eyebrows. “You’re not in a position to negotiate, either.”

Viktor licked his lips. He hesitated for a moment longer, then he capitulated. “I don’t know where it is.”

Yuuri twitched. “What do you mean, you don’t know? It’s not here.” _Where else could it be? _The warehouse was the only feasible place to hide the vase in this area. Well… there was a small antique shop in a mall nearby, but finding the vase there was unlikely. 

“Yes. It wasn’t me who took it away.”

“Then who was it?” Yuuri frowned. “You’re hiding something. Tell me.”

Viktor grimaced. “There might be another place nearby with the vase. An antique shop, in a mall.”

_Oh. _Yuuri sighed, disappointed. “I knew this already. Just who would hide a priceless vase everyone is after in a shop?”

“Yes, but a little bird told me that the vase has belonged to the family owning the shop for generations. It’s an heirloom of sorts.”

Yuuri raised his eyebrows. That, Yuuri hadn’t known. “Doesn’t this warehouse belong to that family? They must know there are people after their vase.”

Viktor shrugged. “Look at this place. There’s no one guarding it–”

Yuuri interrupted him, nodding along as Viktor spoke. “Meanwhile, at the shop, they have people they can trust to look after the vase.”

Yuuri sucked his lower lip into his mouth as he thought. Viktor’s eyes slipped down to track the movement. Yuuri shifted on his heels.

“We’re going to that shop,” Yuuri decided. Yuuri stood up, keeping his gun on Viktor. Viktor picked himself up, eyeing Yuuri warily as they made their way toward the front door.

There was a distant sound of sirens as they exited the warehouse and started to walk along the streets. Viktor started. “Are the police around?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t come along,” Yuuri suggested. “What if they see you?”

Viktor scoffed. “I’ve been avoiding the police for years. I know the tricks of the trade.” He leaned in close to Yuuri, a sneer twisting his face. “And I know you weren’t suggesting that out of concern for me, Yuuri.”

The contemptuous expression sat unnaturally on Viktor’s face, and Yuuri narrowed his eyes, trying to hide his unsettlement. He shrugged, but his mind went over the way Viktor pronounced his name, as though he’d done it many times before. Well, Yuuri was a relatively common name in Russia, but Viktor wasn’t telepathic. He looked sharply at Viktor. “How did you know my name?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know,” Viktor snapped. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you? You don’t contact me for months, you lie to my face when we finally meet, and the biggest shock of them all: you’re a smuggler yourself!”

Yuuri stopped in his tracks, gaping at Viktor. “I haven’t the slightest clue about what you’re saying.” There was no way Yuuri would’ve forgotten if they had met before. Viktor’s name was known by everyone in the underworld. There were stories that even the Bratva employed his services. Yuuri kept photographs of Viktor taken from CCTV footage, for God’s sake. He had admired Viktor and his work for years. Viktor rarely made mistakes, no matter how perilous his mission.

Viktor seemed to peer at Yuuri’s face closely. A few heartbeats passed until Viktor spoke again. “You’re telling the truth.”

“Well, yes,” Yuuri said, his mind reeling. How had his life led up to this moment? He had met Viktor Nikiforov before, and now they were on the same mission? Maybe Viktor was mistaking Yuuri for someone else.

Viktor seemed so sure, though. Yuuri watched as Viktor moved ahead of him, the lines of his shoulders stiffly set. His eyes absently tracked the broadness of Viktor’s frame, his confident stride. As they walked, Yuuri rubbed his fingers of his right hand together absently. He used to wear a ring – he’d worn it ever since his mother had gifted it to him, when he’d turned eighteen – but he’d seemed to have lost it a couple of months ago, when he’d attended a party at one of Chris’s many clubs. Chris was a client of his, maybe even Viktor’s. Chris seemed like he knew everyone in the underworld.

As they walked in a little bystreet behind a row of buildings, Yuuri slowly became aware of the distant sound of a crowd: a lot of people shouting in agitation, the occasional scream of a name. Wherever they were going, it was chaos. And as Yuuri breathed, something acrid and sooty seeped into his nose.  _Fuck. _ Viktor’s stride quickened, his boots thudding down on the pavement. Yuuri picked up his pace too. Maybe he was imagining it, but the sky seemed to be tinted a little orange. He licked his lips.

“Something is burning,” Yuuri said. He heard Viktor hum in acknowledgement. Was it the mall? It couldn’t be; Yuuri prayed it wasn’t.

When they burst out to the main road, Yuuri had to stop and blink hard as his eyes adjusted to the sudden outburst of light. A great fire had enveloped the mall before them. Yuuri stared as fierce yellow flames licked their way up towards the night sky, waves of heat buffeting onto his face. People were screaming, running past Yuuri. It was all a blur.

“The antique shop!” There was a wail from somewhere behind them.

Yuuri whipped around, grabbing Viktor’s arm. “Who was that?”

“I think it was that woman,” Viktor replied, pointing. 

Yuuri followed his finger to a woman who was staring in distraught at the fire. A couple of other ladies were gathered around her, soothing her. 

“We invested so much in it! We’ll never recover from this. Those vases–” The woman broke to sob into her hands.  _Vases?_

Yuuri looked back at the mall on fire. There were a number of advertisements on its exterior. Yuuri pushed his glasses up his nose, squinting at the building. He counted seven levels making up the mall. It was a couple of minutes before he could finally make out the words printed on the advertisements. He read out one: “‘Dunya’s Antiques’ is now open at the rooftop!”

Yuuri looked at Viktor. The red-yellow blaze of the fire cast an eerily beautiful reflection in Viktor’s eyes.

Viktor turned to him, his stare intense. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I think so,” Yuuri said warily. There would be no way to shake Viktor off his trail, so he would have to find a way to make sure the vase was his by the end of the night.

Viktor nodded decisively. As if of one mind they strode towards the mall together, making their way around the crowd. The heat of the building seared as they drew closer. There were firemen in the front, shouting to each other and paying no heed to Yuuri and Viktor’s approach. Several policemen stood at the side. Yuuri veered away towards the side of the building which was untouched by the fire, hugged by an alleyway. Viktor followed him, pulling his hood over his distinctive hair and ducking his head low.

As far as Yuuri saw, the alley was dark and empty. There was a door on the side of the building with an emergency sign pasted onto it. Viktor twisted the knob open and they ducked into the hallway inside, Viktor closing the door behind them. It was quieter here, and the smell of the smoke was less intense than from outside. It was a good sign.

There was an old wooden stairwell at the end of the hallway. Yuuri adjusted his grip on his gun and tried to press forward quickly.

They were on the fourth stairwell when all of the sudden, the stair under Yuuri gave way with a cracking sound. Yuuri’s foot slipped out from under him and he shouted in panic, grappling for the railing as he hastily moved backwards a couple of steps. He gripped the railing, feeling it shudder under his weight. He stared down – he hadn’t noticed it before, but the steps before him had cracks down the middle.

“Take my hand,” Viktor said, reaching out to him. There was a substantial gap between them. Yuuri stretched to grip Viktor’s hand firmly. He steeled himself and leaped upwards.

Viktor caught him and pulled Yuuri up onto his step. They held onto each other, gasping; their faces were very close to each other. A suspicion unspooled in Yuuri’s mind as moments passed and Viktor didn’t push him away.

“When you said we’d met before, what did you mean?” The words burst out of Yuuri. Maybe it wasn’t a good time to ask, but it seemed that there would never be a good time. After they’d found the vase, they would probably never see each other again. 

Viktor smiled and stepped back just a little. Yuuri mourned the loss of his warmth, but adjusted his grip on his gun anyway. Viktor reached into an inner pocket of his jacket. When he removed his hand, laid in the middle of his palm was Yuuri’s ring.

Yuuri stared. “How – how do you have that?”

With his free hand, he took his ring from Viktor’s palm and slid it onto his middle finger. It was a relief to have it back, the golden surface smooth under the pads of Yuuri’s fingers. It shone, even in the dim lighting, as if it had been recently polished.

“You gave it to me, when we met in Chris’s club,” Viktor said, his eyes moving over Yuuri’s face. “You said, ‘Until we meet again, keep it safe for me.’ I know now you were too drunk and probably blacked out after, but back then, I didn’t… Well, anyway, here it is.” 

Yuuri thought back to the night of Chris’s party. “I didn’t see you at Chris’s club.”

“I had a job that day and I came late.” Viktor smirked suddenly, leaning in close. “When I arrived, you were on a pole, almost naked. You’d challenged Chris to a pole dance-off. Needless to say, you won. You were a sight to behold. You enraptured me, _Yuuri_.” Viktor’s voice was a smooth purr. 

Yuuri felt himself flushing. He’d woken up the next day black and blue, his muscles aching something fierce, so he’d suspected that he’d pole-danced. This only confirmed it. No wonder there were things about Viktor that seemed so familiar. His eyes fell traitorously to Viktor’s lips. They were the perfect shape for Viktor’s face. There wasn’t anything about Viktor that wasn’t beautiful.

“What did we do? You must have made quite the impression for me to give you my ring,” Yuuri murmured.

Viktor cleared his throat. “We danced the whole night away. We kissed, too. I took you back to yours and left you there with my number.”

Yuuri blinked. “Your number. What? I never saw it.”

“I wrote it down on paper at your bedside table. I’m guessing you didn’t check it.”

“I’m not really home much,” Yuuri said, frowning.

All of the sudden Viktor pulled away and jerked his elbow back, gripping Yuuri’s arm and twisting it just enough that Yuuri yelped and his gun tumbled to the floor. Viktor shoved him forwards until Yuuri’s back hit the wall and kissed him hard, his hands cupping the back of Yuuri’s skull.

Yuuri was stiff with shock until his body made the decision for him to relax into Viktor’s kiss. His lips moved indolently against Viktor’s as the kiss gentled. Viktor’s grip on his wrists relaxed, and Yuuri’s arms moved to wrap around Viktor’s neck. Yuuri closed his eyes, sighing into Viktor’s mouth. Everything about this felt natural.

“What was that for?” he breathed when they parted for air.

“You believe me now, don’t you?” Viktor pressed his forehead to Yuuri’s and smiled. “There’s no need for that gun anymore.”

Yuuri blinked and smiled back.  _Don’t lose sight of what you’re here for_, a little voice whispered. 

Yuuri picked up his gun. Against his better instincts, he tucked it back into its holster. Who else would run into a burning building with him? He shocked himself with how much he was willing to trust Viktor.

They jogged their way up the rest of the stairs. The door to the rooftop was already open, and they burst out into the rooftop. 

Rows of little huts stretched out before them. Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat when he saw the fire sparking along the sides of the huts at the very end of the row.

“We have to move fast. You search that row, and I’ll search this one.” Yuuri spared Viktor one last look. 

Maybe Viktor would find the vase first, and leave without him. He’d have to risk it. They didn’t have any time.

Viktor looked at him steadily. With the fire raging dangerously close to them, the reality which made whatever was between them something tenuous and fragile had never seemed so potent. But Yuuri knew that he would remember this moment, shared only between them, no matter what lay in his future beyond this. They had been on borrowed time from the start, and Yuuri grieved it just a little. They’d barely gotten to know each other. And maybe Viktor had the memory of their night at Chris’s club, but Yuuri only had this night.

Unable to deny himself, Yuuri reached out, tangling his fingers in the fabric of Viktor’s sleeve. Viktor stepped closer, angling his body towards Yuuri, his fingers wrapping around Yuuri’s arm.

Time was ticking.

“I’ll see you again.” Yuuri tilted his chin up, watching Viktor’s face. “I’ll see you again, Viktor. Don’t you dare forget me.”

“Never.”

Yuuri untangled himself from Viktor’s grasp. He didn’t look back as he jogged along his row of huts, and he heard Viktor do the same. They both had jobs to do.

Yuuri’s eyes burned as he drew closer to the end of the burning huts. He covered his nose and mouth with the crook of his elbow to protect himself. His eyes roved along the signs at the top of each hut, searching – searching, until his heart stopped in his throat and he halted in his steps.

“Dunya’s Antiques,” he murmured to himself.

He suppressed the sudden, nonsensical urge to shout to Viktor and moved into the shop. It was dark, with a number of shelves arranged neatly before him, just like the warehouse. Orange light streamed into the hut from the windows at the side. Yuuri shivered as he watched the beams of light dance and flicker on the floor. He shook his head and moved along the shelves.

“Vases, vases,” Yuuri breathed. “Where are you?” He cursed as he reached the last shelf housing numerous useless knick-knacks. He looked up and around him, looking for something else, anything.

He gasped as he saw a little storage room behind the cashier counter. Dashing behind it, he pried the door open and huffed as he saw a row of vases arranged neatly before him, stepping closer as he saw a vase with a caricature of a little black cat.

Yuuri picked the vase between his thumb and forefinger delicately. It fit neatly in his palm, his fingers easily spanning the neck of the vase.

“All this trouble over this little thing?” Yuuri sighed, tucking the vase into his jacket, right over his chest. The skin of his fingers and palms were clammy with relief.

“Police!” There was a sudden bellow. It was faint from where Yuuri was, but he heard it. Yuuri froze where he was, his mouth turning dry.

“Viktor Nikiforov! Come out where you are right now! There’s no hiding. We saw you with your accomplice!”

Yuuri crept towards the entrance of the hut, his heart in his throat. Cautiously, he peeked out of it. Three officers were surrounding Viktor.

“Where’s your friend?” One of the officers asked as he handcuffed Viktor’s hands behind his back.

“He’s a coward. He got scared off by the fire,” Yuuri heard Viktor spit loudly.

“At least he’s got some sense, not going into a burning building and making us climb all the way up here,” another officer complained.

“Wasn’t he Katsuki Yuuri?” The arresting officer cast his eyes around the area, and Yuuri ducked back into the cover of the shop. “We’ll be after him next.”

The conversation eased, and there was the sound of boots thudding on the ground. Yuuri edged back towards the entrance, peering out.

Just before Viktor was dragged off to the stairwell, he cast a warning look behind him.

What was Viktor thinking, making such a sacrifice? Yuuri clutched the vase to his chest as he slipped out from the cover of the shop. He was leaving this place, but he definitely wasn’t about to present the vase to his client just yet. 

After all, Yuuri had absolutely no intention of leaving Viktor alone to his fate. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :D Please do drop some kudos or comments if you liked this piece <3


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